March 2007

March 29, 2007

Three posts in one week! I do believe that's an all-time record for this blog!

Not because I don't have much to say but because, these days, I spend most of my free time trying to figure out whether my lovely daughter is schizophrenic or just exhibiting normal two-year-old behavior ("I love you! Come here! Gimme a donut! Go away! That's mine! I don't like you! Kiss me! Get out!")

I'll save the details about the Peanut's bi-polarity for a future post. Today, I'm writing because I have some incredible news to share with all of you good readers. Not just any news but the kind of life-altering event that makes you look at the world from a whole new perspective. Ready for it?

This week, I looked evil straight in the eye and I survived to tell the tale!

See...every day when I pick up the Peanut from daycare, the two of us love to sit on the stoop outside our building and wait for BossLady to come home. While we wait, we play all these fun games together.

For example, on our block, there's a deli with a window facing out on the street. Peanut and I both think it's the acme of belly-aching hilarity when I throw her up in the air so that when the people inside the deli look out the window, all they see is a flying 2-year-old coming out of nowhere. Every time I toss her up and she's suspended in mid-air, she waves at everyone inside and yells, "Hi!"

Another game we play is called, "Is THAT your mommy?" We sit side by side and I point at random women and ask Peanut whether that's her mommy.

The other day, I pointed to a woman that we know from the neighborhood. As soon as I asked Peanut, "Is that your mommy?", her 7-year-old son came running up to me and, in a truly demonic voice (at least 5 octaves lower than any normal pre-pubescent child,) screamed, "NO! THAT'S MY MOMMMMMMY!"

Then? He reached across both my arms and scratched them so hard with his claws that he drew blood!

The little shit then runs back to his mother (who doesn't do a damn thing!) and turns to shoot me the most terrifyingly evil stare I've ever seen in my 38 years on this planet (and remember, I'm Korean. Nobody on the planet gives death stares like Koreans.)

I swear the look on this kid's face and the sheer hate spewing from his eyes sent shivers through my bones. If evil has a face, I'm pretty sure this was it. Three days later, I'm STILL having nightmares about it.

Everyone in the neighborhood knows he's a weird kid with a lot of issues but it's only now that I'm realizing that he may truly be the Antichrist. I've already sent out e-mails to all my neighbors advising them to keep a close eye on their pets and I plan on warning all the local priests as well.

When I tell some of my friends this story, their normal response is, "Ha Ha, you're so funny, Pierre! I'm sure the kid isn't THAT bad! You're just exaggerating."

Oh yeah? Well then, how come the kid's best friend is a fucking hamster with a knife in its forehead? How come his eyes glow red? Why does he chop the heads off his stuffed animals? Why is that whenever he's near me, I hear lightening and thunder? And isn't that ever-present baseball cap on his head just there to cover up the horns?

Ok, so I made some of that shit up but am I really overreacting? After all, Ted Bundy killed his first victim at the age of 14. And everyone knows that kids are growing up faster these days, right?

Have any of you ever met a kid that you felt sure was going to grow up and be a complete sociopath? One who bore more than a faint resemblance to the Antichrist?

What should I do? Check his head for the sign of the beast? Look for horns? Stock up on holy water? Hang onion and garlic on my front door? Buy everyone I love some Armor of God PJs? Alert the authorities?

Please help, dear readers! I really love our neighborhood and I don't want to move because of young Satan!

March 27, 2007

"Basketball is the second most exciting indoor sport, and the other one shouldn't have spectators."-Dick Vertleib

Years ago, my buddies and I would get together for the NCAA Tourney and spend 6 hours in a bar watching non-stop basketball. However, now we're all married and have kids so although we'll still get together every once in awhile, most of the time we watch the games in our own homes while speaking to each other on the telephone.

And although we're all aware that fatherhood has changed us in immeasurable ways, we didn't quite realize how much we'd evolved until we started listening to each other during the hoop games. Over the past two weeks, we were shocked to hear the following phrases come out of our mouths:

"Do the hokey pokey, UNC is on fucking fire!"

"D is for Defense, baby!"

"Man, the wheels on the bus go round and round! The Hoyas can't miss!"

"Ring around the rosie! I can't believe that shot didn't drop in!"

Are my buddies and I the only ones who speak like this? Or do any of you other dads out there find yourselves doing the same thing? And what about women? Do any of you pick up stupid things from your kids and use them in everyday conversation? Like, if you find a great pair of shoes, do you tell your girlfriends that they're "totally fragglicious?" Or would you call your sister up excitedly and yell, "W is for Warehouse Sale!"

It is just a guy thing, isn't it? That's what I thought.

.

"There are three things in my life which I really love: God, my family, and baseball. The only problem is that once baseball season starts, I change the order around a bit."-Al Gallagher

Opening Day for MLB baseball is in 5 days.

For us die-hard fans, there's an old saying that "baseball is like a church---many attend but few understand." And if baseball truly is a church, then Opening Day is our Easter. It's a time of renewal and resurrection. It represents a newness in which every team starts with a clean slate and every fan can begin hoping for the glory of seeing their team in the World Series. Tabula rasa, baby!

Now, don't get me wrong. I enjoy most sports. However, the other sports are just sports. Baseball is a love. And as George Will once wrote, "Baseball, it is said, is only a game. True. And the Grand Canyon is only a hole in Arizona."

I like to think that my love of baseball has imparted lessons that I have carried over into life. If you look at the sport philosophically, almost every facet of baseball can be seen as an allegory for life. It's a game where sacrifice is truly appreciated. Subtlety is rewarded. Patience is a virtue. Fear is your ally. And, most importantly, it teaches you that success really can be defined in decimal points.

This season will be the first one where I think I'll start taking the Peanut to Met games with me. I know she's too young to understand the finer nuances of the game. However, I figure after a couple of potato knishes, some old-school Shea Stadium hot dogs, and a few giant balls of cotton candy, she's gonna be hooked for life.

GO METS!

Like most Asian baseball players, the Peanut dislikes chewing tobacco. Pacifiers are the new chaw, y'all!

Meanwhile, who are YOU rooting for this season? I'm a sucker for a good wager. After losing a horrible bet to my pal Big Dubya last year, I'm looking to make amends!

March 25, 2007

Ever since we got back from Colorado, I've been swamped with work, life, spring cleaning, and March Madness. Ok, I admit it. It's really just March Madness. Could these games end any later? Who can stay up until 1:00 to watch games? Don't they know my daughter wakes up at 7:00?

Anyway, I haven't had much time to post lately but thankfully, whenever I need some material, I know I can always turn to my e-mail. I've said it before and I'll say it again...my readers are the weirdest, smartest, and coolest people on the internet. And since I'm still trying to figure out if I'm going to win my NCAA pool and I don't have time to do any REAL writing, I thought I'd just quickly answer a few e-mails that you guys have sent me lately.

Welcome to the latest edition of the mailbag. Go OSU!

Dear MD...My company is going through a massive restructuring,
which has left me with nothing to do at work for the past 3 weeks. To
stave off death from boredom, I've been going on Craig's List and
making up funny personal ads just to amuse myself. You should see the
crazy responses I get. There are some real nut jobs out there. The
problem is that work is going to get busy soon but I'm afraid I can't
stop placing these ads. HELP!-Jason (NYC)

I admit that I used to have a secret guilty pleasure too. When
BossLady was pregnant, I used to read the message boards at
UrbanBaby.com. However, I quickly realized that these boards were filled
with angry, nasty, judgemental women with a shitload of free time on their
hands. So what did I do? Whenever I had any free time, I'd go to the
boards and try to stir some shit up. You have no idea how easy it was
to drive these women bonkers. It was like shooting fish in a barrel.

Here are some fun threads I've started in their forums...

"The stupid maid accidentally broke our $900 Bugaboo stroller.
Should I fire her, deport her, or take it out of her paycheck?"

"Is it really bad to smoke weed during pregnancy? DH says it's ok as long as I stop by the 32nd week."

"my dd has a hard time sleeping. is it ok to crush up a little ambien and put it in her sippy cup?"

"I've just been offered a part-time job. Problem is the job starts at
4 and my dh doesn't get home until 5:00. Is it ok to leave my 2 year
old daughter by herself just for one hour? What if I leave the TV
on?"

Man, I used to laugh my ass off seeing these women go ballistic over
my threads. Most of the time, it was more entertaining than anything
on television. However, I soon realized that the pleasure I derived
from it was because it always made me feel better about myself And
nobody's sense of self should come at the expense of someone else's,
right?

That's why I don't post prank messages on UrbanBaby anymore....AS MUCH AS I USED TO!

MD...Can my wife get a cold from giving a blow job?(Anonymous)

Owing to the fact that I have absolutely no medical experience whatsoever, I turned to my good friend, The Doctor to see if he could help me with this question.
According to him, "No, it is biologically impossible to get a cold from
a blow job. As I tell my wife every day, the only thing that she could possibly get from giving a blowjob is jewelry. Boo ya!"

See why we're such friends?

Metro...My 70-year-old mother just got a new computer and she's
driving me crazy. Every day, she calls to ask me a stupid question.
Today, she was reading the instructions on her new Dell and she wanted
to know what kind of food she had to feed the mouse. Help me before I
go absolutely insane!-Louise (San Jose, CA)

Louise, I hear you. The same thing used to happen to me. Years ago,
my mom bought a microwave and whenever she put some rice in it, she'd
sit and wonder why it wasn't being cooked. She thought the microwave
was some kind of Magic Box! This used to drive me nuts.

But since there's no fighting it, I've
decided to start talking to my mom like I'm a Man From The Future:

MOM: How do I get the photos of Peanut off my camera? ME: Take out the memory card and put it in the printer.MOM: How long will it take? One hour?ME: 2 Seconds per photo. MOM: Really? I didn't know that was possible. I thought it would take a few hours!ME: Nope! And do you know that people don't have to take covered wagons out west any more?
They have these gigantic silver birds and people sit in their bellies!MOM: It's not polite to be sarcastic to your own mother. ME: Hush, woman! I come from a planet so advanced we can program phone numbers in our speed dial. MOM: I'm hanging up now. Bye.ME: Bow to me as your leader, Puny Earthling!

Give it a try. Trust me. It will make speaking to your parents much more enjoyable!

Dear Metrodad---I'm getting married this summer. My fiancee was my first girlfriend so I don't have a lot of experience with women. Since you're an older guy in a great relationship and since you seem to have a good read on women (based on your throng of female readers), I was wondering if you have any useful advice that you could give me about the fairer sex. -Jason (Austin, TX)

Dear Jason...Congrats on the pending nuptials, my friend. As I've said on this blog before, a great marriage is like a duck. Everything may look smooth on the surface but underneath, you've got to paddle like hell. Marriage takes a lot of work (especially during that first year.) Understand the importance of working things out and you should be just fine. As for my advice about the fairer sex? Here's my list of the top 10 things that you need to know about women.

1. Sometimes women nag because there's nothing on TV.2. Women appreciate men who respect their mothers. Just don't be a mama's boy.3. Never question their clothes, the size of their ass, or their sanity. Especially not their sanity.
4. After marriage, it's all about the granny panties. 5. Sometimes the answer to the question "Is something wrong?" is really no.
6. Spontaneous flowers bought merely to please will get you further than you could ever imagine. 7. When they say that they "almost tried that in college," it means they did. 8. When you say you're sorry, mean it. Women have unbelievable bullshit detectors. 9. Her friends are not your friends.
10. When you tell your wife about meeting a woman for work, always mention how fat, ugly, or old she is.

Anyone else got anything to add? Feel free to help Jason out. What seven songs are you into right now? No matter what they are. If you don't comply, you're a commie!-Izzy Mom

Last week in the mountains, I rented a car that had Sirius satellite radio. BossLady and I found a channel called First Wave devoted to alternative 80's music. As their promo stated, "if you ever wore a skinny tie, had spiked hair, or pogoed to the beat, First Wave is for you!" Hmm...check, check, and double check!

This might be the greatest station in the history of radio. I absolutely loved it. More amazingly, I couldn't believe that I still remembered ALL the words to every song. Needless to say, as soon as we got home, I immediately downloaded about 50 of the songs off itunes.

There were a few melodramatic angst-ridden songs that I haven't included but, since spring is around the corner, I thought I'd leave you with seven feel-good 80's alternative songs that I'm totally geeking out to right now:

Speaking of the 80's (and as a way of apologizing for this totally lame post,) I plan on going over to my parents' house soon so I can find some Bershon photos of me with my Flock of Seagulls haircut, my purple parachute pants, and my glaring insouciance. I promise to post them as soon as possible.

Meanwhile, as always, keep sending those e-mails or posting questions in the comments for future mailbags! And what songs are YOU listening to right now?

March 20, 2007

Without getting too sappy, I'll just say that spending the week with BossLady and the Peanut in the mountains of Colorado was amazing. Living in Manhattan, I often find myself getting caught up in the day-to-day cycle of urban living. And being surrounded by so many type-A workaholics, it's easy to lose sight of the more important things in life. A week of decompressing in the great outdoors with the family was the perfect antidote.

The Peanut is almost 2 1/2 years old right now and it's an unbelievably fun age. We have the goofiest, funniest conversations with her and she cracks us up on a continual basis. As so many parents have told us, you never get these years back. So for BossLady and I to spend so much quality time with the Peanut was a luxury that we not only cherished but also will remember forever.

Here are some quick thoughts from the trip...

FEAR OF FLYING

What childless people often don't understand about traveling with kids on a plane is that, despite our best efforts, there are good plane trips and there are bad plane trips. Unfortunately, we never know which one we're on until we're on it.

Up until this past week, our recent plane rides with the Peanut have been a living nightmare. Screaming, crying, kicking...you name it. Heck, on the way home from Palm Beach at Christmas, I must have bought drinks for the entire plane (never underestimate the forgiving powers of free alcohol!)

In general, my philosophy on bringing kids on airplanes is similar to my philosophy on giving a speech at a wedding. You don't need to be good. You just need to be better than everyone else.

Thankfully, on both legs of this journey, the Peanut proved to be a varsity traveler. Despite long delays and crowded flights, the Peanut behaved so well that several fellow passengers remarked that they had never seen such a well-behaved child on a plane.

Of course being the cynical pessimist that I am, I jokingly cursed them for jinxing us. But I guarantee that, on her next flight, the Peanut will be back to being a hell-raising terror. So if any of you are on a plane and see a stressed-out Asian dude with a screaming baby and a stack of drink tickets, feel free to say hi!

THE BRUTAL HONESTY OF THE YOUNG

The weather in Colorado was amazing. Classic spring skiing at its best. Nice packed powder with clear, sunny skies. It was so gorgeous every day that I just wore sunglasses and no hat. The downside is that my face got completely sunburned and now I look like a fucking raccoon. Or possibly a burn victim clown. I shit you not. I look absolutely ridiculous right now.

The great thing is that everyone in my office is super-nice. For the most part, they're all in their 30's or 40's. And sure, they couldn't help but notice my absurd-looking face but thankfully, the only comments I heard were on the level of "hey, looks like you got some great weather!" or "sun was pretty bright, eh?"

I was just starting to feel less self-conscious about my face until this afternoon when I ran into a guy in our office who's in his early 20's. He immediately took one look at me, screamed out, "Holy shit, dude! What the fuck happened to your face?" and then started laughing hilariously!

Seriously, he laughed so hard that he let a fart slip out. That's how much of an idiot I look like. One look in the mirror and I started laughing so hard, I think pieces of my face started to fall off!

Thank god for the frank candor of today's youth, eh?

PARDON ME WHILE I SHOVE THIS CHOPSTICK UP YOUR ASS!

I don't think it's my racial paranoia speaking when I say that ski resorts are predominantly populated with white people. During our entire week on the mountain, I think I saw about five people of color. Hell, even the maids at our hotel were white! (Seriously, have you ever heard of such a thing? White maids! In this day and age!)

All kidding aside, I bring this up because about 10 times during the trip, BossLady and I held a door open for someone struggling with their skis or snowboard. At least five of those times, the person walked right by us without even saying "thank you." BossLady and I were completely and utterly shocked. Finally, we got to the point where we'd get in their faces and say, "you're fucking welcome, asshole!"

You should have seen the looks on their faces. First, they were clearly startled that we even spoke English. Then, they'd duck their head sheepishly, mumble an embarrassed "thanks" under their breath, and shuffle off.

What the fuck? Do we look like we're fresh off the fucking boat? And even if we were, what would prevent someone from saying "thank you" when a person kindly holds open a door for you? Were these people just rude motherfuckers? Or do you think that they were just racist assholes?

Want to know the worst part? A few of these people were with their kids. Nice way to set a good example. EVEN MY FARTS SMELL LIKE EUCALYPTUS

Mother Nature has been dropping a few hints lately that my 38-year-old body ain't what it used to be. Hair is starting to grow in weird places. Hangovers last for two days. I can never find my keys. But the biggest reality bitch-slap came after a day of some hard-core skiing. I seriously felt like I'd been hit by a truck. Every single part of my body was in some sort of pain. For the past two days, I've been lathering myself in Ben-Gay and I'm starting to smell like an 85-year-old man. Boo yah! Who's bringing sexy back?HOLY CRAP, I'VE TURNED INTO MY FATHER!

When I was a young boy, my father would give me homework assignments outside of what was required for school. And even though I was always a good student, he'd often hire me private tutors to ensure that I always stayed ahead of my classmates. Now, as anyone who understands the high value that Koreans (especially immigrant parents) place on education, this might not seem so unusual.

Truthfully, I didn't mind the homework so much. What fucking killed me though were our family road trips. While spending hours driving, my father would grill me about foreign capitals, economic statistics, and politics. I'm pretty sure that I was the only 9-year-old who could reel off the line of presidential succession or tell you all the member nations of NATO.

Naturally, I swore to myself that this was bullshit and I would never do the same thing with my child. Instead, we'd play fun car games like "I spy" or license plate poker.

Well, lo and behold, parenting hypocrisy smacks me in the face again!

On our way back from the mountains, we learned that our flight back to NYC was delayed so we'd have to spend at least 4 hours in the airport. Thankfully, a very cool rep from Continental Airlines gave us a private conference room in the first-class lounge.

The room was equipped with a giant white board, markers, and erasers. Immediately, the Peanut started demanding that I draw pictures of horses, moons, and fire trucks. But after a few minutes of this, I decided that I'd use the time to work on the alphabet with the Peanut and started writing various letters on the board. I'd write a letter, say what it was, ask her to repeat it, erase it, and then start all over again with a different letter.

Naturally, the Peanut got bored with this pretty quickly and thought it was much more fun to torment me by saying every letter I drew was an "A!" She'd see me shake my head in frustration and laugh her little head off. Meanwhile, the lovely and beautiful BossLady was doing the same thing every time I turned to her and yelled,"Good lord, woman! Aren't you concerned? THE PEANUT WILL NEVER READ!"

That led me to go online in a panic, where I started maniacally researching educational guidelines and developmental growth charts. I quickly realized that I was a fucking idiot and that it was perfectly normal for two-year-olds not to know the alphabet (FYI...it seems most kids learn the full alphabet between the ages of 3 to 4.)

Elated to know that my daughter would eventually learn how to read, the two of us then proceeded to spend the next few hours in the conference room throwing cheese at each other, making funny fart noises, and spinning around in the office chairs until we got dizzy.

Good times, yo!

QUICK AND EASY BOOK REVIEWS

Is there any greater luxury on vacation than staying up late and reading? Knowing that you don't have to get up for work the next morning? Since a few of you asked, here are the latest MD book reviews...

"Special Topics in Calamity Physics" by Marisha Pessl...I'm only halfway through this but it's turning out to be one of the most impressive first novels that I've ever read. Comparisons to young peers such as David Eggerts and Jonathan Safron Foer are probably inevitable (and well justified) but this highly ambitious book is greatly entertaining. Although Marisha Pessl is clearly brilliant and not ashamed to show it, the book is uniquely innovative and unlike most anything you've probably read.

"AlternaDad" by Neal Pollack...With the release of this book and all the ensuing hoopla over grups and hipster parents, it's easy to overlook the fact that this is a genuinely hilarious and poignant memoir about one man's modern journey into fatherhood.

"Theft: A Love Story" by Peter Carey...The book revolves around a nefarious art scandal and alternates between the narrations of former art boy wonder Michael and his mentally-damaged brother Hugh. Honestly, I was expecting to a much better book. While it's certainly readable, it's probably not for everyone (unless you're a big Peter Carey fan.)

Meanwhile, I need some new books to read. Anyone got anything interesting to recommend? What else is going on with all of you?

March 13, 2007

Regular readers know that if I don't post here for awhile, all the flotsam floating around my brain tends to explode in a diaspora of mental diarrhea. Usually, I can just annoy my wife with everything on my mind but lately she's been busy with work. Besides, we're about to take off for a week of some hardcore skiing and snowboarding in Colorado. When I'm not on the slopes, I plan on overdosing on chili, catching up on some reading, and teaching the Peanut how to throw snowballs at people from the balcony.

Since it's highly unlikely I'll be posting here for awhile and since I've got some random shit on my mind, I thought I'd leave you with another Chaos Theory post...

MY DOMESTIC TRANSFORMATION IS ALMOST COMPLETE!

Today, I signed up for a cooking class. Either I'm the definition of a true Renaissance man of the new millennium or I'm slowly turning into a fucking Asian houseboy.

Why am I doing this, you may ask? Because BossLady and I have noticed that whenever the intercom buzzes, the Peanut automatically sprints to the front door and yells, "Dinner here?"

Very cute but so wrong.

STICKY FINGERS

Last week, the Peanut and I stopped into our local bodega to buy some lottery tickets. When
we got home, I told her to take off her jacket but
she refused. Normally I wouldn't really care but I noticed that she
was clutching something in her hand and was trying to hide it in her
coat pocket. When I pried open her hand, what did I find? A York
Peppermint Pattie.

That's right, my daughter committed her first crime! Do you have any idea how fucking embarrassing it is to go into a store, apologize for the fact that your two-year-old hijacked some candy, and then fork over $1.00?

Later, we ran into Michael Imperioli on the street and all I could think about was Peanut growing up to be the first Asian female member of an Italian mob family from Jersey.

SING THE SONG SOUNDS LIKE SHE SINGS IT

Whereas the BossLady sings like an angel sent from the heavens, I sound more
like a hippo passing a kidney stone. Unfortunately, I have no sense of
shame so if you ever want to hear the African mammalian version of
Morrissey's "Suedehead," feel free to join us the next time we go out for karaoke.

Anyway, when the Peanut was born, I loved making up ridiculously silly songs
for her. Past hit singles have included, "Santa Said Eat Your Peas," "$18.00 Sneakers and
You Got No Job?" and "Please, Please, Please, Go to Bed!"

Apparently, the gift of making up stupid songs is passed on genetically because lately the Peanut has been on a composing tear. Her latest release is called "Cake, Cake, Cake. I Like Cake." She'll literally walk around the apartment singing it to herself all day long. She's also a big fan of mash-ups. Yesterday, she sang us a song called, "Happy Birthday, Old MacDonald!." Today it was "Row, Row, Row, Your Jingle Bells."

God damn, I love this little girl!

SHE CAN EAT (OUT) GIRLS LIKE NORAH JONES FOR LUNCH

Speaking of music, one of the things rocking my world these days is all the original and exciting new music being released by acts like the Raconteurs, Arcade Fire, Ghostface Killah, and
Fallout Boy. Now, thanks to MetroBro, I've got a new ipod crush and
her name is Amy Winehouse, a white, 22-year-old bad-ass British soul
singer who comes across like the illegitimate love child of Sid Vicious
and Aretha Franklin. Her new CD is
being released in the U.S. this week so if you want to hear some funky
gospel vocals laid out over modern beats, check it out.

Aside from her songwriting talents, Ms. Winehouse seems to be that rare creature who has an utter lack of pretension and an awesome penchant for shooting off her
mouth. The following is from her wikipedia page...

At the age of 10, Winehouse founded a short-lived amateur rap group called
Sweet 'n' Sour. She described the group as "the little white
Jewish Salt 'n' Pepa.

When asked about all her "old school" tattoos of naked women, she said, “I like pin-up girls. I’m more of a boy than a girl. I’m not
a lesbian, though — at least not before a couple of sambucas anyway."

And finally, once when Bono was accepting a music award and started
talking about Africa again, Amy famously yelled out, 'Shut up! I don't
give a fuck!' When pressed for comment, Amy replied, "What can I say? I'm a dickhead when I'm drunk."

WHY I FOOKIN' LOVE THE IRISH

Speaking of Bono (and the fact that this is the 20th anniversary of "Joshua Tree,") here's a funny U2 story told to me by my friend Xiobhan...

Bono is at a U2 concert in Glasgow when he asks the audience for some quiet.

Then in the deafening silence, he starts to slowly clap his hands. Holding the audience in total captivity, he says softly and seriously into the microphone …

“Every time I clap my hands, a child in Africa dies……”

Suddenly, from the front row of the venue and breaking the total silence, a voice yells out in a drunk Scottish brogue...

“Well, for fuck's sake, stop fookin doin’ it then!”

THE SHAMROCK SHAKE MAYBE BUT NO WAY IT'S BETTER THAN THE FRIES

Normally, I deplore reading posts about the various google searches that lead people to one's blog. Since I'm an inherently lazy writer, I'm afraid if I start doing things like that I'll never write an original thought again. However, I'm going to make an exception to that self-imposed rule because I'm very proud to announce that I'm the #5 hit for the following google search phrase...

"My 7 year old says my breast milk tastes better than McDonalds."

Disturbing on so many different levels, isn't it?

While I'm at it, I'd like to state that I'm also extremely proud of the fact that several people seem to have found this site by googling, "I like cool dads who wear leather pants and like to drink breast milk." Get your freak on, people! I guess it's true. One woman's fetish is another woman's fantasy!

YES, BUT ONE MAN'S GARBAGE IS ANOTHER GIRL'S TREASURE

The old line about children throwing away presents and playing with
the packaging is almost so axiomatic that it has devolved into cliché.
But as the wise philosopher Yogi Berra once said, "you can observe a
lot by just watching." And by watching the Peanut, it's clear
that spending any money on toys for her is an exercise in futility.

*I told Peanut that the bra was a hat so naturally she puts
it on her head like a yarmulke. She looks like a drunk midget stripper
at a bar mitzvah.

HE SHOOTS! HE SCORES!

My friend Andrew sent me this game. Maybe it's a guy thing but this simple game is so absurdly addictive that I'm thinking about setting up a pro tour so I can play it for a living. Give it a try sometime when you're bored at work. But don't say I didn't warn you.

THE McDLT: HOT SIDE HOT, COOL SIDE COOL

I just read this article about married couples redoing their houses so they could sleep in separate bedrooms. Personally, I'd never do this in a million years but I understand the logic. In fact, BossLady and I joke about it all the time.

See, I sleep totally nude with 4 pillows, no blanket, and a reading light attached to my head that makes me look like a yuppie coal miner. On the other hand, BossLady sleeps in polar fleece sweats underneath an enormous down comforter, wearing a black-out mask that makes her look like the Lone Ranger. I swear, if it were up to me, we'd keep the thermostat at 65 degrees.

Either she's exothermic or I'm the first virile Asian-American man to experience menopause. Anyone else have this problem?

FIVE ROCKING OUTFITS IN METRODAD HISTORY

Being in the fashion industry, almost every day I hear people say,
"eventually, everything comes back in style!" Now, I like to think
that I have an innate sense of style but I have to admit that lately my
clothes have been boring me. Maybe that comes with being 38 years
old. Or maybe clothing was much more interesting when I was teenager.
Anyway, thinking back on some of my past outfits, here are 5 items that
I wish I still had.

You may not know this but Koreans and the Irish share a special affinity. More often than not, people call us the "Irish of the East." We're both hard-working people with chips on our shoulders and a reputation for being tough, mean, chain-smoking drunks. We love boozing, singing, and getting into fights (preferably all on the same night.) Our people share a history of oppression from neighboring countries and have a homeland still divided by politics and rage. We'd kill or die for our families. And nobody eats more fucking cabbage than we do.

So it was with great interest that I looked forward to watching the new NBC show, "The Black Donnellys." Directed and written by the brilliant Paul Haggis, the show follows four young Irish-American brothers in NYC's Hell’s Kitchen neighborhood and their involvement with organized crime. But mainly, it's a story about family, loyalty, and sacrifice.

So far, only three episodes have aired but I have to say I'm hooked. While it's clearly the network answer to "The Sopranos," there are at least 5 times during every episode where you have that "no fucking way did they do that!" moment. Unfortunately, none of the characters are redeemingly likable enough so I'm pegging the show's chances of survival around 50/50. At a time when "Dancing With The Stars" seems to be the lowest common denominator (with the highest ratings,) I'm hoping that "The Black Donnellys" gets a chance to find the audience it needs in order to survive.

Like "Friday Night Lights" or "Studio 60," this is a show that may be too smart for the average TV viewer. So far, critics have not been overly enthusiastic about the show. And I have to admit that part of the criticism might be well deserved. In many ways, the show's depiction of NYC's Irish culture is done in a way that could only be imagined by a bunch of sun-tanned writers working in West Los Angeles. But at the same time, it's far better than 99% of the rest of the shit on network television.

March 09, 2007

Long week, my friends. Work has busted my ass this week so I haven't had much time to post. However, as I've done before, I came across some interesting quotes, both funny and serious, that I thought I'd share with all of you (along, of course, with my normal two-cent commentary.) Enjoy...

"Being pregnant is such a serious event in a woman's life, and to
make light of life when I had an extra burger is getting a little
annoying."---Halle Berry addressing those ongoing pregnancy rumors.

I cracked up when I heard this quote because it reminded me of the time when my buddy Andrew ran into an old friend at the gym. The two of them were running on adjoining treadmills when Andrew asked her, "So, when are you due?" The woman turned to him in shock and replied, "What? When am I DUE? I'm NOT pregnant!" Andrew, being the quick-thinking attorney that he is, quickly answered, "No, no. I said what do you DO? Haven't you switched jobs since I last saw you?" One of the all-time best recoveries I've ever heard.

It's a shame that every female celebrity who gains a little weight is automatically assumed to be pregnant. Shit, if the roles were reversed and I were a famous person, I'm guessing that the paparazzi would probably think I was somewhere around my 10th week these days!

Damn, only 11 weeks until beach season! Hard to get motivated for the gym when it's 13 degrees outside.

''I don't want to speak ill of the dead, but fashion-wise, that boy died years ago.''---Joy on "My Name is Earl"

I just found these old photos of me that were taken at an office party about 5-6 years ago. Holy crap, I used to be a stylish guy! When it came to my work attire, I had a lot of friends in fashion who used to give me old runway samples or would throw huge discounts my way. Back then, my whole closet was filled with these beautiful Calvin Klein Black Label suits that I'd get for under $200.

Then, the "office casual" look came around and suits were no longer in fashion. Shortly thereafter, I had a kid. These days? Shit, I'm lucky if I make it to work without any Cheerios sticking to my shirt collar. Today, I got to the office and noticed that I not only had cranberry juice stains on my pants but also the Peanut had stuck some gum on the back of my sweater. Classy, eh?

I swear it's only a matter of time before I start showing up to work rocking some "mom jeans" and a fucking muumuu!

''No, that pierced ear looks great...especially if you're going to a Wham! concert with Molly Ringwald.''---Charlie Sheen on "Two and a Half Men."

Speaking of fashion, I was at a conference for work on Wednesday when I noticed this 55-year-old man desperately clinging to every vestige of his long-forgotten youth. Aside from the ponytail and his absurdly cheesy gold necklace, the guy was wearing a Van Halen t-shirt, a black blazer, and Doc Martens. I didn't know whether to laugh or cry. Seriously, this dude would have looked better in some mom jeans and a muumuu.

"Trust me, Bart. It's better to walk in on both your parents than on just one of them." -- Milhouse on "The Simpsons"

Every time that the BossLady and I start making out or fooling around, the Peanut runs over to us and tries to separate our bodies, yelling, "No, Mommy! No, Daddy!" If she had a crowbar handy, I'm sure she'd use it. Question: Is it us or does this happen to any of you also?

"It was like some ghastly lunch where after lunch your parents have asked the children to dress up and sing."---Simon Cowell to Sanjaya on "American Idol"

Maybe this is a Korean thing but when I was a little kid, my brother and I fucking hated it when my parents had company over. We'd always be forced to wear these ridiculous matching outfits and quietly serve hors d'oeuvres to the guests. After dinner, like trained monkeys with an accordion, I'd have to play the piano and my brother would have to play the violin. Then, my parents and all the guests would coo at us and tell us how "special" we were. Fuck that!

I swore that I would never do the same thing with my kids. I don't care if the Peanut can blow bubbles while playing Rachmaninoff's 3rd Concerto in one hand and juggling balls of fire in the other, I'm not a big believer in the whole "putting your kids on a pedestal" trend.

Now, I don't want to come across as some old geezer talking about the "good old days" but it seems that modesty has disappeared faster than Lindsay Lohan's panties. I see a lot of parents out there constantly boasting about their child's achievements so it doesn't entirely surprise me to learn that several recent studies are showing that parental efforts to boost children's self-esteem have resulted in a generation of narcissistic college students. Look, you only have to watch 5 minutes of "My Super Sweet 16" to see the effects of parents who are obsessed with believing that their child is "truly special."

I know there's a fine line between imbuing your child with confidence and inflating his or her ego. But man, is it me or does it feel like a lot of parents are stepping all over it?

"That's it, sweetie. Let it all out. Doesn't that feel good?"---Mom to toddler screaming in stroller on the subway

Like many parents, I live in fear of the public tantrum. So far, we've been pretty lucky. The Peanut usually saves her tantrums for the apartment. Beginning on her 2nd birthday, we started instituting "time outs." We actually call it "the naughty point." Anyway, the Peanut really lives in total fear of the "naughty point" and whenever we threaten her with it, she immediately cools out.

Except yesterday.

The Peanut had a total meltdown at the grocery store because I told her to stop grabbing shit off the shelves. The "naughty point" threat didn't work so I quickly paid for our items, tucked the Peanut under my arms like a football, and walked home 5 blocks in the freezing cold...all while the Peanut screamed like a total banshee.

She screamed in the lobby. She screamed in the elevator. She screamed in the hallway. Finally, when we entered the apartment, I plopped her down on the floor and, with a sigh of exasperation, said, "Go ahead, Peanut. We're home now. Scream your little face off!"

Of course, she immediately stops crying, gets a big smile on her face, leans over to kiss me on the cheek and pat my head, and cheerfully asks, "Daddy tired?"

Man, raising kids is like living with a miniature schizophrenic sometimes, isn't it?

"Yo, Jack! If you get rich off of this stuff, take
care of my family. I don't want my kids to have to go to no college!"---Tracey on "30 Rock"

Unfortunately, BossLady and I didn't win the $370 million lottery this
week. However, we did have fun talking about how we'd spend the
money. Like most people, I spend a lot of time worrying about paying for Peanut's college
tuition or our retirement savings. So yeah, if I had $370 million,
it'd be nice to not have to worry about that anymore.

At the same
time, I can't stop thinking about my friend Rob,
who lost his newborn son to a brain seizure this week. As HBM put it best, "whether you already know Rob, or don't yet know him, you should know this: he's one of us, a parent who is embracing parenthood with his words. Let his words remind you to be so, so grateful for the children that you carry in your arms. And because the fullness of love that surrounds Rob's son's life and death - so beautifully shared with all of us - remind you that true love lives always, eternally, in the heart."

Hug your kids extra tight tonight.

"A lot of the songs were ones that were recorded in Larry’s spare bedroom."---Bono talking about "The Joshua Tree"

On a lighter note, can you believe that U2's "The Joshua Tree" was released TWENTY years ago today? Man, that makes me feel old. I remember first falling in love with U2 in 1983 after the album "War" was released. I'd never heard a rocking political anthem like "Sunday, Bloody Sunday" and I recall being completely blown away. Then, during my senior year in high school, "Joshua Tree" was released. From the second I heard the cassette, I played it virtually non-stop. To me, it was nearly a perfect album. Several months later, I would leave New York to drive cross-country and start a new life in California. In many ways, that album was the soundtrack of my journey.

Where were you when The Joshua Tree came out? Does it bring back any memories for you?

March 05, 2007

Dramatis Personae: Twelve parents, all with children under the age of 3.

As the delirium of a rare child-free evening is coupled with copious amounts of beer and sake, one of the aforementioned diners subconsciously begins humming the song "Elmo's World" underneath his breath. Soon, the entire table is loudly singing along like a bunch of inebriated Christmas carolers. Shortly thereafter, the group is raucously singing the theme song to "Wonder Pets." John Mayer and Jessica Simpson are sitting nearby and abruptly leave, apparently disgusted by the lack of hipness being displayed at the adjoining table.

We’re not too bigAnd we’re not too strongBut when we work togetherWe’ve got the right stuff

What's gonna work?Teamwork!

For our next gathering, we plan on singing the theme song to "Bear in the Big Blue House" and "Dora the Explorer." If things get really crazy, we might even do the dance-floor version of "Head, Shoulders, Knees & Toes (Knees & Toes!)

Hipster parents, indeed!

On a side note...remember when you were younger and you couldn't get that stupid song out of your head? Maybe it was Hansen's "MmmBop" or "Macarena?" Hell, I remember one time where I almost started hitting my head with a fucking hammer because I couldn't get "I'm a barbie girl, in a barbie woooorrrrllld!" out of my head. Anyway, is it me or are those annoying songs that fill your head now all mostly kid's songs?

Because right now, the only music in my head is that duet by Bert & Ernie, "What's the Name of That Song?" All day long, I'm singing, "La di da di da, La di da di da."